The beauty of the resurrection unfolds in my mind like nature’s death and harvest.
Jesus spoke truth of love to die at the hands of forgiveness. Flowers sprout like the coconuts I witnessed; cracked open and lodged into the crevasses of volcanic stone. Palm trees swaying hello to the pacific.
Pagan goddess blesses re-birth in the shadows of humility and ignorance.
Grace lets us pray on a day collective to speak a chorus echoing unity magnified in the valley painted in the tunnel of life.